Your wounds are becoming more visible each time you burn or flood with embers of stories past
trying to reconcile themselves with the present. Tears are no longer raindrops but immense storms that ravage peoples and lands leaving them unrecognizable for generations to come. The sun and the moon dissolve into your shadow like a newborn birthing out of the womb unsure of its new surroundings. Humans and animals prey upon each other like adversaries whose swords only end up piercing their own hearts. I stumble each time I call out to you in bewilderment, wondering if you and God can sit down in a field and talk placidly. You implode at every moment you are disgraced, which seems to be unyielding these days. How can I blame you?
You were once a Garden of Eden immersed in innocence before the toils of ego ran rampant amidst humanity. I pray you forgive us our trespasses and that we learn a gentler way to honor you. And perhaps one day, we too can join you and God in that lush field of wildflowers touched by an earth whose time has come to finally know peace.
All my love,
Laura